The Cult
: Chapter 18

When the Malevolent took Claire and Beatrice, I refused to stay behind. With my dagger in my pocket, I went with them—for better or worse. When I saw Benton and his men, it made my breath come out as a shudder, because I’d thought he’d never return.

I’d underestimated the man.

It all happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to think. Forneus released me, I was on the chopper with a headset on, Beatrice was bleeding out, and I was lifted out of that place. The sea of trees passed. The snowy mountains disappeared. Civilization came into view. It didn’t take long to see roofs and streets, given the speed of the chopper, but on foot, it was still at least thirty miles away from the closest inhabited location.

When the truth dawned on me, that I was free of that place, I was suddenly filled with dread.

Because I wasn’t really free.

The Malevolent still stood among the trees. The sculptures were still illuminated by firelight. Laura and Nadine still remained behind, along with the others, waking up to the same terrible existence.

It wasn’t over.

And Forneus would come for me.

There was no doubt.

I spent my first night in Paris wandering the streets, passing the cafés that closed in the afternoon, restaurants where friends were enjoying their coffees after their heavy meals. The air was thick with cold moisture, making my hair slick, my cheeks wet.

In all white, I stuck out like a billboard.

My apartment had a new tenant. All my things had probably been donated.

All I had was the cash Benton gave me.

But that didn’t replace the life that had been taken from me. It didn’t replace the time I’d lost, the damage to my body from the acid, the mental trauma I would always carry now. When I was at the cult, I was hyperfocused on survival and freedom. But now…I had nothing to do. All I could do was process the destruction as I wandered the streets alone. All I could do was think about what I’d witnessed. All I could do was wait for Forneus to come back…

I was in the woods again. Shadows. Yellow eyes. Demons.

Everywhere.

I saw them everywhere.

I stood in the doorway and stared at Beatrice.

She sat up in bed, her eyes out the window, her hair pulled back in a bun. She looked exactly the same as she did in the mountains—like she had no reason to live. The flowers were in my hand, the ones I bought with Benton’s money. My knuckles tapped against the open door.

She turned her head to look, the lifelessness fading when she recognized me. “Constance?”

“Thought I’d stop by.” I carried the vase to the table at her bedside. “Just to see how you’re doing.”

She looked over my appearance, like I looked worse than she did. “Why are you still wearing that?”

I was in the white jeans and sweater because I’d been up all night. I could have bought some clothes, but that wasn’t a priority at the time. “I just…haven’t had time to change. How are you?”

She planted her hands against the mattress and cringed as she pushed herself up. “Terrible.”

“Stingy on the pain meds?”

“No. But they wear off quickly.” Her hands rested on her stomach as she stared at me, her eyes tired.

“At least you never have to go through this again.”

“But the damage is done.”

My eyes studied her face, my mind taken back to that conversation we’d had on her bed.

“I’ll never live a normal life, not with these scars.”

“Not right away…but in time.” I had been in the midst of a mental breakdown last night, but I somehow felt better talking someone through their own breakdown. She gave me something to do, something to focus on. Making someone feel better made me feel better.

She stared ahead, dismissing what I said.

“How long are you here for?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’m staying with Benton for a while.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just for a couple days. Then I’ll need to figure out what to do next.”

I had no idea what to do with my life. Ballet was my life, but now I could never go back. Not because of the scars. But because of the memories. I’d never look out into that theatre without imagining those skulls sitting in the auditorium. Besides, that would be the first place Forneus would look.

“What about you?”

My eyes looked out the window, the sky already dark because winter had come. Daylight was short, sunlight fleeting. “I…I’m not sure. I’ll go to the police later…”

“You really think that will do anything?”

“I have to try. After what they did to us…to you…and the girls who are still there.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try, but don’t expect anything.”

My eyes shifted to hers. “Why do you say that?”

“From what little I know of Benton’s old career, that’s not what the police are for. They worry about grand theft auto, homicides among regular people, petty crimes…not big players like Forneus.”

“I refuse to believe they would just look the other way about this.”

“Then give it your best shot.”

“What are they going to do? Just say I’m crazy?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman was told that…”

Beatrice didn’t seem concerned about the girls we’d left behind. Benton didn’t either. Didn’t even want revenge for what happened to his daughter and her mother. Was I the only one who couldn’t let this go? The only one who cared about the girls who were still there? The girls who would replace Beatrice and me?

Or was it because I would never be safe…until Forneus was gone.

I sat across from the police officer at the precinct, telling him everything that had happened. “I filed a report a couple months ago when the guy was following me. You can talk to the officers about that. There wasn’t anything they could do at the time.”

He sat in his chair, staring at me, his chin propped against his closed knuckles.

“He’s either going to come back for me, or he’s going to replace someone to replace me. So, this isn’t over for me. And until that place shuts down, it’s just going to continue. They believe we’re angels so they torture us, but they also deal acid or something…” My eyes narrowed as I stared him down. “Why aren’t you writing this down?” He didn’t take a single note. At least the first officers had.

“I got the gist of it.”

“If you get the gist of it, why don’t you have a reaction?” I needed this guy to help me, so being difficult wasn’t in my best interest, but sometimes you had to be difficult to get shit done. “Because any normal person would have a reaction right now. The press would be all over this…a cult that worships women as angels…carving their backs…”

“Instead of going to the press, you should go to a publisher. Because this is a great story.”

“Story?” I glanced around the precinct, seeing officers answering phones and going about their schedules. Handcuffed criminals were escorted inside, receptionists grabbed coffee. “You think…you think I’m making this shit up?”

He glanced down at me, taking in my oily hair, my white clothes. “Are you homeless?”

“Excuse me?” I shrieked, my voice rising above the ringing phones. “No. I was kidnapped and released. People who are kidnapped look like shit. You never solved a kidnapping before? No surprise there…since you’re terrible at your job.” Great. Definitely wasn’t gonna help me now.

His eyebrows rose at my hostility. “Sorry, I’ve never heard about a secret cult—”

“Because it’s a secret,” I snapped. “Let’s take a chopper, and I’ll replace it for you.”

“You think we just have choppers parked on the roof?”

“I’m just saying, I can show you where it is, but it would be much easier from the air.”

“We aren’t spending tax money to go on a safari—”

“Wow…okay. Can I speak to your supervisor?”

“Sure.” He nodded to the office behind him. “Go for it.”

I sat there, knowing that Beatrice was right, that this was pointless. “They deal acid. This is a whole operation for you to take down. The accolades and recognition you’d get—”

“Either talk to my supervisor or get out. I have work to do.”

My shoulders sagged in defeat, even more disappointed that Beatrice had been right. I expected a report to at least be filed. I expected them to at least look into it before they dismissed me. But they just flat out rejected me. Discredited me. Acted like I was a crazy homeless person when I was far too coherent and concise for that.

Now what was I supposed to do?

I stayed at a hotel for a couple days.

I didn’t stay anywhere nice, because Benton’s money was all I had for the foreseeable future. Now that the police were a dead end, I’d have to move somewhere else. London was too expensive. Italy was too, in most places. But I didn’t have an ID for me to even get on a train right now.

Benton made it clear he never wanted to see me again, but I didn’t have anyone else to ask.

I wasn’t even entirely convinced that a new country would solve my problem.

If Forneus truly believed I was his only chance of salvation, he’d replace me anywhere.

Even Antarctica.

I’d have to kill him.

No other option.

But a knife wouldn’t be enough.

I’d need a gun.

The hotel didn’t have room service, because it was a shabby place that men used to bed their prostitutes, so I left for every meal, looking for something cheap. A dancer’s salary had always been minimal and I’d never eaten like a queen, but I rationed myself even more, grabbing a premade sandwich from a café.

I didn’t want to sit in my room alone, so I took a seat in the empty restaurant. The glass was covered with raindrops because it had poured that afternoon. It’d been a long time since I’d had coffee, so I ordered myself a cappuccino. I wasn’t sleeping tonight, so the caffeine didn’t matter.

I stared at the dark liquid, thinking about the blond hair and blue eyes that used to make up my days. She used to be this little girl who just shared my space, but at some point, she became my reason for living.

Because I dedicated my life to getting her out of there.

If I had to stab myself with that knife, I would have done it.

In a heartbeat.

Without her, I was lost.

And the idea of never seeing her again really did make me sad.

I understood why Benton didn’t want me near his daughter. If a stranger I’d met for five seconds was obsessed with my daughter, I’d be weirded out by it too, especially without the context. Claire and I had been through so much…and there was no way for him to understand that.

My eyes were still down on my coffee.

But I could feel it.

Feel the piercing stare.

See the smile in my mind.

Feel the café fade into the wilderness. The lights were replaced by torches. The tables turned into statues. It was freezing cold, the outside elements suddenly hitting my frozen cheeks. My eyes remained down, too afraid to look up.

But I did anyway.

Across the street under the lamppost, he stood.

In all black.

The glow illuminating his face but also casting shadows.

Smiling.